


Tattered

by LotharWinchester



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Balthazar/OC - Freeform, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, M/M, Not Beta Read, Not Canon Compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-10
Updated: 2012-08-10
Packaged: 2019-01-15 04:07:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12313455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LotharWinchester/pseuds/LotharWinchester
Summary: based off of/ combines several of my SPN related dreams. set after season seven but other than that, it's currently up in the air.





	Tattered

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own SPN.
> 
> fic cross posted from FF. chapter 1 is inspired by the song "Call me" by Shinedown

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

 

Balthazar’s eyes burned as Gabriel held him back. The archangel’s left hand was placed against his chest.

“I don’t like it any more than you do Balthie.” The snarky angel glanced to his right at the sound of the other angel’s voice. 

“This is bullshit.” He growled and yanked Gabriel’s hand from his chest. “And you know it.” The tension left his arms as Gabriel met his gaze. Tears openly flowed from his hazel eyes.

“If we interfere…” 

“If we interfere, Blair won’t go to Hell to save our asses.”  Dean Winchester pushed the angel’s apart and glared straight ahead at the battle going on before them. Random burst and waves of heat had knocked Sam Winchester farther away than the trio.  Blades clashed and Grace dispersed.  If it was down to a battle of grace, the long haired brunette would lose in a heartbeat.

“Do either of you give a damn about her at all?”  Dean shouted as another gust of heat passed by a few feet in front of him.

Balthazar’s hand gripped hi angel blade and he nodded curtly at the elder Winchester. If it were any other time, Gabriel would’ve smirked and chuckled at that. Said actions would bring out a snide remark.  But both of the fighting being’s Graces’ touched the tips of his golden wings. With a sharp jerk of his head, his attention was drawn back to the fighting.

“Blair…” the woman’s name left his lips as Balthazar flew past. He couldn’t bring himself to care that the lower foot soldier angel was going to try and stop this massacre.

* * *

 _“Go back to Hell you son of a bitch!”_  
  


Balthazar stopped short and let go of his angel blade. Blair had pushed him back.  Back into the pit.

He had no qualms about Lucifer being thrown to his abysmal land and his fiery cage. It was the woman, the woman that was grasping at her last hope of survival that made it feel like it was his guts flowing freely from his body, not hers.  She didn’t deserve to be here. She gave her very essence to fight off and defeat the remaining Leviathans and _this_ is how she is repaid?  A thank you in the form of repeated torture in Hell and a possible trip into the cage? No. Not on his watch.

“Grab onto my hand!” he shouted over the roar that resonated from the darkest parts of Hell. “Love, _hurry_!”

Blair smiled and coughed a mouthful of blood against the dirt wall.  Balthazar’s panic heightened at the sight of her remaining Grace splattered against her black tank top and jeans. He leaned in further and she grasped his hand tightly in hers.

“I won’t let you go.” Balthazar tried to soothe her as the blood and grime from her hand drenched his. “I already failed you once, I won’t do it again.”

Blair smiled up at him and laughed lightly. “Balthazar,” she sighed against her broken left arm, “You and I both know I’m going to die.” The angel shook his head and gripped her hand tighter, “You have something else you need to protect now.”

Balthazar shook his head in confusion, “I don’t understand, what-”

“Know that I love you, Balthazar.” He stopped speaking almost as soon as she interrupted him, “Tell my Dad I love him to. That…” She shook her head, it spread her bangs across her dirt stained cheeks, “I never stopped loving him.”

Nothing could’ve prepared him for the amount of pain he was about to endure. Blair, with her remaining strength and usable right arm, forced her hand out of Balthazar’s grip by slinging her full body weight and the pull of the constant roar to initiate her decent into Hell.

* * *

It was Gabriel’s hand on his shoulder that pulled him out of the disintegrating hole fast enough, unless he was to be swallowed in as well.

Not one thing registered to him. Neither the feel of Gabriel’s hand on his jacket nor the slight swish of the cool breeze as it passed through his soft downy feathers. In a flash, a brief show of his Grace, he vanished.

His senses returned as his feet touched the faux bamboo flooring of Blair’s apartment. His bloodstained hand dragged across the lavender wall and the currently adorned photos. His arm had healed mid-flight but the emotional pain still remained. Questions poured into his mind.  
  
_Was her death the final straw? What was left for him to protect, her apartment? Her belongings?_

He shouted out his pent up rage as his hand slammed a photo frame off the wall and onto the floor; glass shattering into hundreds of tiny pieces.

“Why?!” the question ripped itself from his lungs as he picked up the frame and carried it with him to his destination.  He already knew what picture it was.

Smashing the bathroom door open with his foot, Balthazar slammed the medicine cabinet door shut and glared at his sullen expression. Once some of the tension fled from his body he glanced down at the photo. The one picture of himself and Blair that had survived all these years.  His index and middle finger trailed her cheekbones as he stepped back.  
  
“She deserved to live!” his pent up tears finally began to flow freely, “Did her very existence _displease_ you that much Father?!” He screamed towards the heavens.

With no response, he stared his reflection down in the now fogged mirror and grasped his left wing with all of his power. Bones crunched and snapped as he began to tug and tear his wings from his body.  Blood oozed from the torn flesh underneath his once orderly feathers.

* * *

Gabriel stood in the aftermath and looked down at the angel that had lost so much faith in their father; he had done the one thing that could separate him permanently from the ever absent man.

The archangel sighed and began to mend the once barely marred wings now bent and twisted at awkward angles.  He worried his teeth against his bottom lip as he molded the unconscious being’s wings back into their natural range of motion. 

He was so engrossed in the work, he missed as another approached the bathroom doorway and a soft gasp quickly averted his attention.  His nearly broken heart ached at the sight.

 

 

 


End file.
